Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.

AN: Written for the first (March 22nd) Winterhawk Mandatory Fun Day prompt: St. Patrick's Day.

########

The First One by luvsanime02

########

Clint Barton ducks under a fist and then punches the guy in the kidney. He doesn't bother to watch the guy go down, only turns around in order to deal with the next fist coming at his face.

"Remind me why we came here again?" Clint yells.

There's about ten guys between him and Bucky Barnes, but Clint knows that he'll respond.

Bucky takes the time to toss a chair into a group of guys first. "You wanted to experience 'a real Irish St. Patty's Day, Bucky, come on, what's the worst that could happen?'" Bucky says, his voice perfectly pitched to carry across the noisy and crowded bar without shouting.

He's very talented at that, Clint's noticed. Then again, Bucky's talented at a lot of things. For instance, his perfect mimicry of Clint's voice, and his total recall of what exactly Clint said earlier. "I don't sound like that," Clint yells back anyway, tripping some guy so that he lands on a table and then flipping it over on top of him. The guy's wearing a shirt that says Kiss Me, I'm Irish. Clint's not at all tempted to kiss him, but he is tempted to steal the guy's shirt. Maybe later. "And for the record, this is a great first date."

Better than Clint had hoped for, honestly. He'd thought that Bucky would say no when he asked, for one thing. And then that he wouldn't show. Really, on the scale of Clint's disaster of a life, a bar fight in an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day counts as a nice romantic stroll in the park.

"I've had worse ones," Bucky admits. He's not even bothering to give the guys near him a fighting chance, like Clint charitably is. Bucky's just hitting them all so hard that they're clearly not planning on getting back up again in a hurry.

Now Clint's curious about what kind of first dates Bucky's been on before, if this one counts as not so bad. Clint's obviously not the only one with shitty luck in that department. Then again, that's part of why they seem to fit together so well, sometimes. To paraphrase from a certain movie, Bucky's crazy matches Clint's crazy really well.

"Me, too," Clint agrees. He's run out of people to hit, apparently, and straightens back up, rolling his shoulders. He's not even injured. Bucky's already righting a chair and sitting back down, looking like he's just walked into the bar without a care in the world.

"You're buying the next round," Bucky drawls, and Clint doesn't protest. He walks over to the bar, and it says something about the Irish that the bartender doesn't even care about the bodies still sprawled all over his floor. No one even bothered to call the police. Those not involved in the fight were cheering everyone else on, and now that the entertainment is over, they're all going back to their own conversations again.

Clint even gets their pitcher of beer on the house, in appreciation of his and Bucky's fighting skills. All in all, this date is shaping up to be a pretty good one, after all.